


Markers Before Midnight

by dasfreefree



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Birthday, Childhood Friends, F/M, Female Reader, Fluff and Angst, Romantic Soulmates, Soulmate-Identifying Marks, only the best for my birthday twin
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-22
Updated: 2018-10-22
Packaged: 2019-08-05 21:31:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,152
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16375349
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dasfreefree/pseuds/dasfreefree
Summary: As midnight approaches, you begin to lose hope that your soulmate mark will appear. Some people will never get one and you could be one of the unlucky ones.But not if Iwaizumi has anything to say about it.





	Markers Before Midnight

**Author's Note:**

  * For [claireandelide](https://archiveofourown.org/users/claireandelide/gifts).



> HAPPIEST OF BIRTHDAYS TO MY GIRL, GABY!!! Thank you for being an amazing friend and confidante. This is the least I could do for you on our special day. I hope you have the best day and that you enjoy this Iwa~

Time is running out: it’s nearly ten in the evening with only a few hours of your eighteenth birthday remaining. You’re sitting in your dark living room, lit from the movie playing on the TV, Iwaizumi next to you on the couch. Normally, he would never stay too over this late, but given that it’s the weekend and it’s your birthday, your best friend took it upon himself to make sure you enjoyed yourself.

Especially knowing how distraught you are that you still have no soulmate mark.

You aren’t even focusing on the movie anymore. Your eyes keep wandering to the digital clock on the shelf next to the screen hoping for a change in number. Eleven o’clock has never felt so cruel, not even on the nights you’d stay up studying or working on a project. You sigh and attempt to follow along with the movie again.

Iwaizumi can’t focus on the movie either. He catches you fussing every few moments to check your hands, arms, whatever part of your skin that isn’t currently covered. It kills him to see you like this. Your eighteenth birthday is almost over. It’s a day that shouldn’t have made you so restless, and yet...Whatever forces that are pulling this stunt are cruel. 

Eighteen years of waiting on edge only to find out that you may not have a soulmate. Most people are born with their tattoo. A decent minority without usually see them pop up on their skin within the first. A smaller but still sizeable group won’t get theirs until their preteens. An even smaller population finally find their mark before their eighteenth, but rarely do people never bear a soulmate tattoo by the end of their eighteenth birthday. If they don’t have it by then, they never will. 

And rare does not mean impossible.

There’s another part of him--a part that seldom rears its ugly head--that hopes your mark never appears. Not because you don’t deserve it, but because he knows that the likelihood of seeing his tattoo on your hand is close to zero. If you were meant to be his soulmate, why would it take this long to show up? 

Whenever this thought surfaces, guilt follows suit. He has to imagine it as the ugly creature it is, and throw a mental punch its way to keep it out for the time being. Like a disgruntled saloon owner kicking out some rowdy patrons with a sharp, “And stay out!” like in those old-timey cartoons. Except they still make their way back sometimes.

He lets his gaze wander down to his hand resting casually on his leg. His tattoo is a colorless mandala, intricately designed with swirling black lines. Iwaizumi then looks to your hands, which you’ve just set back down on your lap. You tap your fingers restlessly against your legs, desperate to check them again just in case, but manage to keep your eyes on the screen.

Iwaizumi is then struck with an idea.

“Your mom still keeps the art and crafting supplies in the hall closet, right?” he asks.

You don’t take your eyes off the screen. “Yeah, why?”

“You’ll see.”

“Aw, humor me a little bit, Hajime.” Now you shoot him a silly smile, but you can feel how much you’re forcing it. If Iwaizumi notices this, he doesn’t mention it. 

“Fine. It’s the last part of your present.”

He misses the quizzical look you shoot him as he stands up. You watch his retreating figure, contorting yourself when he’s gotten behind the couch. There’s an undeniable confidence in his stride that seems different than the way he normally walks. You can’t say why, but it may be more than him being proud of simply remembering which door is for the closet. (He still remembers from all the times he came over when you were kids). 

Iwaizumi opens the door and scans the shelves. When his eyes fall on whatever he’s looking for, his face lights up for a brief moment. You can’t see exactly what he takes. Whatever’s he’s pulling out clacks against the plastic bin that holds them. He tucks that under his arm before heading back to his spot on the couch and setting it on the coffee table. 

Across the side and in your mother’s best attempt at fun handwriting, “MARKERS” labels the contents inside. You blink, then look to him. 

“It’s a surprise,” is all he says. He turns to the markers search for whatever color he needs. 

You ask, “Should I turn a light on?”

He holds up a fine-tip black marker to screen. “Nope, I found it.”

“I’m doing it anyway.” And with a shrug, you rise to turn on the lights. You give a half laugh when you sit back down. It’s the kind you do before you’re about to make a bad joke. “Because you can’t keep me in the dark about this anymore, Hajime.”

“I’m going to pretend I didn’t hear that.” He sighs--unable to hide the small smile on his lips--and sits up a little straighter. 

It’s always those little actions that remind you of how painfully in love you are with your best friend. It’s always been this way, since childhood even. It’s always those little actions that remind you of how close and yet how far you are from him. The marking on his skin feels more like a thin layer that separates him from you.

But then he turns to you, green eyes ignited with a passion that you can’t place the catalyst for. When he looks at you this way, the heat rises to your face. 

“It’s okay if I draw on you, right?”--You nod--”Give me your hand,” Iwaizumi says. You lower your gaze to his open palm. You have an inkling of what he’s about to do. Your heart beats loudly in your chest when you place your hand in his. 

You used to hold his hand all the time when you were children. As you got older, that had to stop. Someone was going to take it the wrong way after all. But there were rare times he took your hand again: the time you pulled a prank on Oikawa and he helped you run before Oikawa would chase you down, when you were nervous about walking home alone at night after seeing a scary movie together, during fireworks at the summer festival...

This time feels just as nice, but something about it is warmer. Even before his thumb grazes back and forth over the top of your hand, you can tell this is different.

“Listen, (Y/N), I don’t care if your tattoo never shows up or if it ends up being different from mine. Honestly, I think this whole thing is a load of bullshit anyway. There’s no way that girl I’ve loved for the past thirteen years  _ isn’t  _ my soulmate. But I know it’s been killing you and it’s your birthday and, dammit, you deserve to be happy!”

The warm feeling swells up in your chest and manifests itself almost instantly.  _ He loves you _ . You’ve always known it, but it’s so much sweeter to hear it aloud.

Before you can say anything else, he takes the marker to your hand. Iwaizumi is not an artist: his lines aren’t as refined, his hand trembles as he glides the marker along your skin, he tries and fails to navigate how to draw over the bones in your hand, and the ink feathers and bleeds on your skin. The end result resembles his own mark without being an exact replica. But it’s still perfect to you. You hold up the finished job to admire it, but can’t make anything out with the tears welling up in your eyes.

“Hajime, I--”. The tears start falling faster now and make it harder for you to say what you’ve wanted to say for a long time. It’s time you took some control over your destiny, so you take a few breaths to calm yourself down. “I’m so lucky. I’ve always wondered if because of that”--you gesture your head to your hand--”my own feelings would be one-sided, but I’m so lucky that I’m in love with you.”

His eyes widen before he smiles. It’s that big toothy grin he does where his eyes shut for a moment and he lets out a chuckle. You smile as well despite the tears. 

“Happy birthday, (Y/N).” His hand reaches behind your head to pull you closer to him. He plants a soft kiss against your forehead. It’s a kiss that makes you feel safe and loved. Just as you hope for another, he cups his hands around your face, thumbs wiping away the tears lingering on your cheeks.

The kiss is simple: his lips press delicately against yours, warm and soft. He pulls away almost too quickly but still lingers close enough for you to lean into it yourself. You can’t help but smile when you do. How many times have you imagined what it would be like to kiss Iwaizumi? How many hours spent chasing what always seemed like it was just out of reach? 

You’re so lucky to be in love with your best friend.

~*~

Your eyes struggle to open against the harsh light of the TV screen. You aren’t sure when you fell asleep. All you do know is that your still in your living room, you fell asleep in your clothes, and that you need to pee. The DVD is still on and going through the usual title screen menu clips every so often. While you’re trying to get your bearings, you feel your head rise and fall in a steady motion. You don’t remember falling asleep like this on top of Iwaizumi, one of his arms wrapped around your waist.

In your sleepy stupor, you forget how lovely and cute this all is. Even if you didn’t need to use the bathroom, you’d probably end up waking him and you know better than anyone that a sleep-disturbed Iwaizumi is a cranky Iwaizumi. You can revel in your affirmed affections in the morning. You sit half-asleep on the toilet anyway, and you’re struggling to keep your eyes open while you wash your hands.

_Your hands_. You’re washing your hands and then it hits you. The sudden panic forces your eyes open and you search the sink. The water that streams off your hands is slightly darkened by the ink running from your skin.

“No…” you plead weakly. How could you have been so careless? It may have only been temporary, but you wanted to keep his work there for as long as possible. Your lips tremble as you turn your palm downwards to face what’s left of the drawing.

The marking Iwaizumi drew is gone, but your eyes widen at the sight. In its wake is a tattoo with thinner, more defined and refined lines. You’d know this marking anywhere; you spent so much time committing the beautiful mandala on his hand to memory in hopes that it would show up on your skin. For it to be there suddenly, it must be a dream! You splash the water in your face, pinch yourself, but you aren’t waking up. You grip your wrist and hold your hand up to look at it in awe, unable to hold back the joyous laughter that bursts from you.

There’s a knock at the door followed by a quiet call of your name.

Your head snaps in the direction of the door. You open it quickly to reveal a very sleepy Iwaizumi, rubbing his eyes against the light of the bathroom. 

“Hajime!” you cry. Everything seems so surreal; you struggle to find the best way to say anything at all, false starting a few words that go nowhere. You give up on that and throw your arms around him, burying your face into his chest.

“Is everything okay?” 

Now you can’t help but crying again. You’ve cried so many good tears already thanks to him, but this time all the worries that have piled up for years dissolve with each drop. You pull your head away from his chest and smile despite the tears and hold up your tattoo-marked hand to him. “ _ It’s her _ e. It’s finally here.”

He takes your hand and stares at it. Disbelief colors his features before he grins with trembling lips, fighting back his own happy tears. He wraps you up in a tight hug, and you both laugh and cry wrapped in each other’s warmth.

“It took so damn long, but I always knew,” he says while placing a kiss on top of your head. “I always knew it was going to be you no matter what.”

And then you kiss again, thanking fate for being on your side even if she was very late with her present to you. 

 


End file.
